Oblivate
by jadeesunshine
Summary: What do you do when your last memory happened over a year and a half ago? Where did your life go? And why can't you remember anything? Time to find out! COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared at the bland white ceiling. Disorientated, her eyes darted at the ceiling but she couldn't see anything but white though she realised she was lying on a bed. The silky covers were caressing her skin gently and the pillows under her head cushioned her softly.

She tried to move, just lift her arm to prove she still had a body but felt a twinge of pain so she ceased the attempt. Her entire body ached: like it was completely bruised. She managed to wiggle her toes and count them cautiously. All ten were there. Next her fingers. She could move them but some felt heavier and harder to lift.

Tilting her head to the left, she felt a shot of pain cascade up her neck and her head started to pound frantically as if large amounts of blood were suddenly pulsating through her tight blood vessels. She groaned but stopped abruptly. It wasn't her voice. It was because it came from _her_ mouth, _her_ voice box had vibrated to make the sound. But it didn't sound like her. The groan was husky and hoarse, frail and weak.

She closed her eyes and tried to bury herself deeper into the pillows. Everything was wrong. She didn't know what was going on. The questions burned fiery in her brain, repeating themselves over and over, hoping for answers. Why was she here? Why did she hurt so badly? Where was she? How did she get here? But she couldn't find the answers.

Thinking hard, she tried to remember the last thing that happened to her. It didn't come immediately. It took several concentrated minutes to recall what she could remember last. Flashes of colour came first. Red and green. Gold and white. Then came scents. Roses. Vanilla. Chocolate. Strawberries. An image appeared but it was blurred and her head pounded harder as she tried fervently to focus her mind. She could tell that this image was most important.

And then it focused, revealing The Burrow. It was cleaner. Like the entire outside had been scrubbed. The garden was gnome-free and blooming with daises everywhere. Connecting off the Burrow were hundreds of vines knotted together to make a large tunnel and then they tangled around the posts that suspended a silky tent high in the air. Laced within the vines were millions of roses, varying in colour and size. It was the last scene she remembered. The wedding.

Exhaling loudly, her ribcage rattled slightly and she winced at the pain of such a big breath. So she could remember the wedding but nothing else. She must have got terrible drunk on Firewhiskey that night and now she was waking up, feeling the pain of dancing too hard and drinking too much. She tried to smile but her lips and cheeks pierced with pain at the movement.

She let her body rest, drifting in and out of sleep for the next few hours. It was too painful to move so she rested herself. When she woke up hours later, the daylight had fully engulfed her room and she knew it was nearing midday. Slowly she tensed her muscles and felt aching pains. But there were no sharps twinges of pain so she thought it was safe to move.

Her body really did ache everywhere. Wincing constantly with her face screwed up to help her cope, she managed to swing her legs off of the bed and turn her body to the side. But she remained horizontal. Everything was throbbing sore. She tensed her stomach muscles and felt like she was being stabbed a hundred times. However she had to sit up. So biting her bottom lip, which caused more pain then it should have, she pushed up with her elbows and endured to the stabbing until she was sitting vertically. She let out a breath she had been holding in and again, her ribcage rattled and she winced.

Getting to her feet was easier but not less painful. The soles of her feet felt as though she had been walking on hot coals for hours. But the pain dulled as her body got used to the pain so much that is instinctively numbed it. She walked across the room and now she could see where she was. It looked like a hotel room. Muggle though. Everything was bolted down. Wizards could just put a Permanent Sticking Charm on all the furniture. It was clean and fresh and simple. A basic room with a big Queen-size bed complete with white pillows and covers. There were bedside tables with bolted modern lamps. In front of her was a large wooden wardrobe. She stepped towards it and turned the round handle, opening one half of it. There were several dresses that looked like they belonged to her but there were a couple of shirts, newly ironed and pressed, that didn't fit in with a woman's wardrobe.

She pushed the door back slightly and the change in light drew her attention to the back of the door to face a floor length mirror. But she didn't recognize the image reflected back at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw. There were bruises blooming around her swollen lips. She was wearing white underwear, exposing the bruises that plastered her skinny body in random areas. There were red marks on her neck and as she pushed her hair out of her face, her fingertips caress her hairline and encountered something wet a sticky that moved outwards turning dry and crusty. A long gash stripped through her skin on her forehead and it tinged with sharp pain at her touch.

The image in front of her wasn't her own and yet the body moved just as she did. It wasn't until she touched the reflecting glass that her eyes bulged wide and her swollen lips dropped. It was her. It was a swollen version but it was her. It was Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"_Episkey,__" _she mumbled for the last time, pointing her wand at a bruise that was centimetres from her left elbow and sighing as the bruise faded into a yellow smudge just like the many others on her body. Hermione stepped to the side and re-evaluated herself in the mirror in the wardrobe. The bruises that once burned her skin were just slightly darker parts of her body, showing little sign that they had ever been there to begin with. On her face, although her lips were slightly plumper than normal, there were no visible signs of bruising. She had used the spell numerous times on each bruise so no one would know.

Hermione smiled weakly at her reflection but her mirrored face looked strained and tired. She walked away from the mirror to sit on edge of the bed, leaving her wand on her pillow. Lying back, she was overwhelmed with weariness and exhaustion. Her eyes closed feebly and she tried to cast her mind back, searching her mind for anything.

She could remember the wedding in more detail now. Ginny's pearl white dress trailing behind her and following in step with Fleur beside her. Her own emerald green dress floated to the floor and in her hands was a bouquet of white roses. As they walked up the aisle, her eyes caught on familiar faces. Teachers from Hogwarts. Members of the Order. Colleagues from the Ministry. Old school friends. And as she approached the altar, she saw the black-haired man she recognized as Harry. His black suit with emerald trim with smooth down his body and a white rose was pinned to his jacket. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of red; exactly the same as Ginny's.

And then she remembered.

Ron.

The name made her sit up abruptly and open her eyes, like she expected him to just appear because she remembered. Hermione scanned the hotel room but there was no sign of the ginger haired man echoing in her memories. She pulled her fingers through her hair and exhaled exhaustedly.

Pushing up from the bed, she got to her feet and walked back over to the wardrobe. Her fingers trickled through the different fabrics until she found a 60's inspired, brown dress that she thought would match her eyes. She found a black belt and matching brogues and tights and laid them on the bed. She pulled her white nightdress over her head and changed her underwear before dressing fully and moving to a suitcase that was in the corner. Inside she found a hairbrush and small bag she assumed was her wash bag.

Hermione was worried about herself. Why couldn't she remember past the wedding? Where was Ron? Why was she in a hotel room? She closed her eyes and splashed cold water on her face, grabbing a towel nearby and dabbing the water droplets away. Squirting toothpaste on her toothbrush and rinsing it under the tap, Hermione walked back into the bedroom and picked up her wand from the pillow. _"__Locomotor,__" _she said, her voice still husky and hoarse as the hairbrush came to life and starting tugging gently through her hair. She was starting to sound more like her but it was as if she had been screaming all night and her voice was facing the consequences.

Her feet moved themselves to the bathroom, the hairbrush following, and she leaned over the sink to spit before rinsing her toothbrush and packing it into her wash bag. Leaning her hands against the sink, she peered at her reflection and saw the tired expression, her eyes drooping low and her skin extremely pale.

The hairbrush pulled through the last strand of hair and then set itself on the counter before becoming completely inanimate. Hermione rested her wand next to it and rummaged in her wash bag, finding some foundation and mascara. Just what she needed! Although she rarely wore make-up, she always carried it around in emergencies like now. After completion, she looked more like herself.

She packed her hairbrush and make-up and picked up her wash bag and wand, walking back into the bedroom. With a flick of her wand and a non-verbal incantation, the suitcase skidded across the floor and hopped up onto the bed, unzipping itself. Hermione placed the wash bag inside and turned on her heels to face the wardrobe. Her wand flicked once again and the clothes slipped off their hangers and flew through the air, folding themselves on the way. As the last shirt drifted into the suitcase, the lid flapped onto and the zip was closed.

Remembering she was in a Muggle hotel, Hermione stowed her wand in her beaded bag and hoisted the suitcase off the bed and lifted the handle, allowing herself to pull it out of the door and leave the hotel.

####

Hermione leaned towards the driver's window and handed the bald man a crisp £20 note from her purse before pulling her suitcase along the pavement and watching the taxi drive around the corner of the square. She stopped and looked along the looming terraced houses, three stories high with metal balcony rails over some of the windows and a small path of stairs that lead up to a solid black door. As she walked past them, she counted the numbers. 9. 10. 11. 12! Condensing the handle of her suitcase, she lifted it up the steps and straightened her dress before ringing the doorbell.

From inside the house, she could hear muffled yelling and then footsteps approaching the door. The latch clicked and the door swung open to reveal Ginny looking back into the house. "Do not fly inside the house Teddy!" Her vibrant red hair whipped around as she turned her head and her eyes bulged brightly as she stared her Hermione.

"Hello." Hermione waved awkwardly. This wasn't the reception she had been expecting.

"Er ... Hermione," Ginny uttered in a sense of disbelief. Hermione couldn't understand it: she'd always been really close of Ginny, especially in their last year of Hogwarts. "Hermione," she repeated her eyes still wide and bright yet unfocussed, like her mind was somewhere else. "Come in," she said shaking her head and moving out of the way so Hermione could pass.

"HARRY!" she yelled, closing the door and taking Hermione's suitcase and placing it in the cupboard under the stairs.

Hermione followed Ginny into the lounge and sat down on the nearest armchair, her beaded bag in her lap. The room had changed slightly since she had last been there. In the corner was a massive closed chest. The rectangular coffee table was replaced with an oval shaped one and there were more pictures scattered around the room, crowding the mantelpiece.

"How was the honeymoon?" Hermione said turning in her seat to face Ginny who was hovering by the next, pacing a few steps back and forth. She was obviously on edge; Hermione could see that. Her face was that when she thinks too hard about something and her fingers always tap on her lips automatically.

"Huh?" Ginny replied, snapping out of her daze and dropping her fingers from her mouth. She paused mid-pace and bent over to pick up a soft teddy bear from the floor. The teddy was wearing a Gryffindor t-shirt and Ginny straightened it out compulsively. "Oh the honeymoon? Yeah, it was lovely. I wish we could escape here and go back again."

"Didn't you just come back?"

"Back?"

All of a sudden, from the upper levels if the house, Hermione heard a small crash and then the cry of a baby. Immediately Ginny left the room with the teddy in hand. "Harry what are you doing?" she shouted up the stairs as footsteps began to descend them and the cries, although becoming less frequently, grew louder.

"Sorry love. Teddy bumped into Luna's Christmas present and it fell off the table and shattered. Here, have James." Harry's voice was directly outside the door of the lounge. There was a struggle and then the baby's cries were ushered to silence. "Who was at the door?"

"Hermione," Ginny whispered but Hermione could still hear through the closed door.

"What?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Hermione sat in the Potter's lounge, awkwardly twiddling her thumbs, scanning the room. Agitated she crossed her legs and then re-crossed them the opposite way. She tried to understand Ginny's and Harry's strange behaviour towards her. They both were surprised to see her. Had she interrupted something?

All of a sudden, after much hushed whispers from outside the door, Harry burst through into the lounge, smiling brightly. His black hair stuck out wildly as always in several places. The emeralds behind his round glasses were weary and tired, weighing his face down slightly. His blue shirt tucked into his black trousers but part of the shirt was poking out.

"Hermione!" He walked towards her with eyes filled with scrutiny as he looked Hermione up and down cautiously. Was she dangerous or something? "How are you?" he continued, opening his arms wide. Hermione stood up and was pulled in for a tight embrace.

"I'm good thank you," she replied, spying over his shoulder, wondering where Ginny was.

When Harry pulled away, he gestured to the seat Hermione had previous occupied and he sat in the armchair beside it. "That's great. I don't mean to sound rude but what are you doing here?"

An ache in Hermione's heart pained and she felt slightly cracked at Harry's words. He didn't want her here; she could easily tell. But where else could she go? A part of her thought Ron would be here, hanging out with his best friend. She assumed they would both be happy to see her and her company would be welcomed. This wasn't the desired reception.

Gulping hard, she blinked tightly and when she opened her eyes she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "I wanted to see you and Ginny. And I hoped Ron would be here?" At that moment, she wanted to see him more than ever. The ache in her heart pained harder and she felt it turn to stone and weigh her down, pulling her mood with it. She tried the flat they shared but it was empty, an accumulation of dust had already formed.

Nothing was making sense.

Without any warning, the floodgates opened and tears stung her eyes as they streamed down her cheeks and fell off her jaw. Heartbroken sobs broke from her chest and her head fell into her hands. "Help me?" she whispered hoarsely. She wasn't sure if Harry heard or not.

Immediately, Harry moved and sat next to Hermione on the arm of her chair. He pulled her close and she cried into his chest, sobbing louder and louder. His hands brushed through her hair and rubbed her back gently. "What's wrong?" he asked repeatedly but Hermione was too hysterical to answer.

Truthfully, she wasn't sure why she was crying. But she couldn't find the energy to stop. At once, the bruises that she had healed that morning felt raw and burning. Harry's embrace tighten causing her body to throb. The tears streaming stung her face and pained her lips sorely. "Where's Ron?" she mumbled, pulling herself together and trying to dry her eyes. But when her fingers touched her cheeks, they stung just like this morning.

Pulling herself away from Harry in shock, she watched his face. His eyes widened and mouth dropped as he looked at Hermione disbelieving what was right in front of him. Hermione didn't have to look down to know that the bruises had reappeared all over her skin. "Ginny?" he yelled worriedly.

From above, there were heavy footsteps that hurried to descend the stairs. And then Ginny burst through the door with a brown haired baby in her arms who was tugging on the Gryffindor teddy bear. "What is ... Bloody Merlin, Hermione what happened to you?" Her gaze followed Harry's and Hermione started to feel uncomfortable with all the staring. She stared at the floor and resumed twisting her thumbs.

"Where's Ron?" she asked again but it was ignored as if she never spoke.

Passing the baby to Harry, Ginny walked forward and crouched by Hermione, lifted her chin to examine the damage to her face. Hermione watched as tears welled up in Ginny's eyes as her light touch brushed over her swollen lips. Her touch was cool and welcome, it soothed as her fingertips brushed across her skin softly. "How did this happen?" Her touch dropped from her face and she examined the bruises on her chest and arms. "Harry, get the Dittany from the cupboard please."

Harry left the room with the baby squirming in his hold and returned with a flask in his hand instead of a baby. "James is with Teddy. And I've taken the broom off him." He passed the flask to Ginny and pulled out his handkerchief that Ginny snapped from his hands.

"Thank you," she said as she dabbed the handkerchief with Dittany essence and then patted the cloth on Hermione's skin. In response, Hermione winced as the Dittany stung her bruises. But after the stinging, a healing tone lulled the bruises and suddenly they didn't hurt as much. "Get Ron! Quickly!"

Hermione sighed in relief. He was coming. She was would see him soon.

Pushing himself up from the armchair, Harry pulled his wand out from his trousers' waist line and with a swish through the air, mumbled, _"Expecto Patronum"_. A silver stag erupted from the tip of his wand and it trotted around the lounge. "Find Ron! Tell him to come here immediately." The stag bowed gracefully before leaping out of the window, antlers first.

####

Ron didn't arrive for 30 minutes. When he stepped out of the fireplace, his hair was damp and his clothes were hanging off him like he had dressed himself too quickly. Hermione immediately smiled at the sight of him. She felt complete.

In the 30 minutes previous, Hermione had troubled herself with why the healing spells wore off. She had used the spell several times before but never had its effects worn off and the injuries come back. Every conclusion she came up didn't seem to fit. Finally she decided it was because she was so exhausted that she didn't channel enough magic to heal them effectively and the emotion wave of her crying triggered the spell to lose its effects. To her it seemed like the most logical solution.

And now Ron was here. Hermione wished she could hug him, hold him close and never let him go but Ginny was reapplying the Dittany to her face so it wouldn't look scarred. The other bruises were dulling to a yellow colour. As he looked up at her, he saw her smile and returned it weakly.

Why was he not rushing to her side? Her head was muddled with emotions but she thought he would be happy, maybe even relieved to see her. Instead he just tipped his head towards her and followed Harry out of the room.

"Why is Hermione here Harry? Is this some kind of intervention? And what is Ginny doing to her?" Ron tapped his foot impatiently as he looked at his best friend. All he knew was that Harry's Patronus had summoned her and as soon as he arrives, it seems like an ambush.

Harry held up his palms defensively. "Ron I didn't bring you here to ambush you. Something is wrong with Hermione. This morning she came over like nothing had happened. Draco hasn't even been mentioned and she's bruised from head to toe. I think she's been Oblivated. "

"Draco?" Ron growled through grinding teeth. Hermione was still precious to him although he'd never tell anyone.

Harry simply shrugged. "I didn't know whether to send an owl to him or not. Anyway, she's been asking for you; working herself into hysterics until and sent my Patronus for you. I don't like this Ron."

"Is that your Auror senses tingling?" Ron joked but looking at Harry's serious face, one rarely used, he instantly stopped laughing and rocked back on his heels awkwardly. "What can _I _do though? Lavender will blow her top if she finds out I'm here."

Obviously deliberating, Harry's eyes wondered above, not really looking at the ceiling but into his mind instead. Ron had always been jealous of Harry's ability to hatch a plan. The only person better than Harry was ... Hermione. "I'll Apparate to the Ministry and tell them to expect us. The Oblivators need to see her. Maybe they can figure this out or reverse the spell so Hermione can. You stay here and keep her company. She wants you. Not us."

"And Draco?" he said through gritted teeth. The feeling couldn't be shaken that he was somehow involved. Hermione had Malfoy written all over her.

"I'll owl him," Ginny said, walking into the room to put the Dittany essence away. "She wants to see you." She nodded towards Ron before kissing Harry and walking out of the room, towards the sounds of a crying James.

Both Harry and Ron acknowledged the plan with a nod and as Harry Disapparated, Ron walked through the halls of Grimmauld Place until he entered the lounge to see a weeping Hermione. Quickly, he rushed to her side and she embraced him. This was awkward. It had been over a year since Hermione had embraced him. Yet she knew nothing of it. She mumbled something into his chest but he couldn't understand it. "What was that?" His voice was soft and kind. Soothing.

Pulling away and wiping her cheeks, she looked up at him, brown eyes glistening through wet tears, red cheeks all rosy and an innocent face that reminded him of the years at Hogwarts. "What's happening to me?" Her voice was frail and broke.

Ron panicked. He didn't know what to say. Harry hadn't told him what to say in this situation.

So he told her anything but the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

The Ministry wasn't as busy today as usual. Many wizards emerged from green flames, their eyes drawing to Hermione and Ron together. She could feel their stares like pin pricks across her skin, stabbing her from all directions with minimal damage physically. Psychologically, Hermione's mind was racing. Ron had lied. Spending the majority of her time with him made her tuned in to the acute movements when evading the truth; his eyes would dart to the door; the tips of his ears flamed; he licked his lips excessively.

But Ron was back. Although she couldn't figure out why he was lying, she was too glad to have him back to pressure an answer from him.

They waited in the Atrium, both of them staring up at the fountain that was built after the war. Marble had been moulded into a circle of children. Each individual was different, the marble darker with those of darker skin, the faces rounder with some and square with others. Three looked like they resembled Ron, Harry and Hermione. However the Minister remained adamant that if that was the cause, it was merely a coincidence. But how many boys have lightning scars across their foreheads?

"Hermione," Harry's voice sounded behind her and she spun on the spot, Ron turning slowly with her."This is Bernie Bobble. The best Oblivator I know." He gestured to a man standing a couple of inches back who was blushing and sending glares towards Harry before noticing Hermione's gaze and smiling sweetly.

A black cloak hung from his body but underneath were simple muggle clothes – quite on-trend. Bernie was young for an Oblivator, it's a very demanding job that only skilled wizard are accepted to be. When he spoke, his voice was husky and he sniffled a lot. The man was clearly ill. "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Granger. I apologise for my untimely illness but wizards never stop exposing us." He stuck out a hand to shake and Hermione shook it gently.

"Bernie, shall we continue this in the office?" Harry asked, pointing everyone to the elevators.

####

Instead of Bernie's office, Hermione was led down the familiar corridor to Harry's. Once inside and settled into the sofa, next to Ron, with a steaming cup of tea in her hand, Hermione demanded answers. "What's going on Harry? I know Ron lied-" she heard him curse under his breath, "- and I don't understand why I'm here and why Mr Bobble is either. Can someone please help?"

"I believe I can," Bernie injected, stepping forward and sipping his strong coffee, the odour streaming to Hermione from across the table. "From what Harry has explained, it's clear to me that you've been Oblivated." Hermione was about to speak, to argue that everything was fine, to deny her worries a voice but the Oblivator didn't provide a chance. "Something traumatic has happened; the bruises are evidence. And your memory of Ron is a false one."

Immediately her head snapped to the red-head by her side and his ears flamed redder than a rose. "I'm sorry Hermione but I'm with Lavender. We've been broken up for more than a year. I'm really sorry." Ron reached out to touch her but she flinched away, tears building up in her eyes. She watched through glazed eyes as Ron leaned away from Hermione with a saddening face. "This is all Draco Malfoy's fault," he hissed.

"Hermione? We want to try some spells and trigger your memory recall. That way we can try and figure out what happened." Harry was cautious with his words. He sat up from his armchair and crouched in front of her. She wanted to look away as his green eyes pierced her. He had decieved her. They all had. All Hermione wanted was to sprint from the door and hide. But her eyes locked with his. "This is important! You were hurt and we need to find out who did this. It can't be tolerated Hermione. Please!"

A single tear spilled and plummetted down her cheek, falling with a gentle splash on her lap. Who was she? Nothing made sense and upon reflection, it hadn't since she awoke bruised and alone in the Muggle hotel room. But did she want to know what happened? Would she feel better because of the knowledge? In her Hogwarts days, she would have believe so; knowledge was power. But the idea of uncovering who harmed her caused butterflies to take flight. Her breathing accelerated quietly and with a sick feeling in her stomach, Hermione knew what needed to be done.

* * *

><p><strong>This one is short but the story is coming to a close. I estimate two more chapters! Has anyone figured out what happened to Hermione? REVIEW!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Draco was alone.

He hadn't slept in thirty six hours and the dark circles shadowing his eyes were evident of that. He was sore and aching but without injuries. Apart from the cut just above his right temple. The wound hadn't been tended to; dry blood crackled off under his fingers. He was probably concussed. Standing made him dizzy and nauseous so a concussion was likely. But he didn't care.

His head was throbbing, a constant pounding adding pressure from inside his skull. Draco didn't know whether this was because of his head injury or the vast amounts of Muggle scotch he had consumed. It would be ironic if the Muggle drink was causing his pain. Karma.

He couldn't bring himself to remember. The images were blurred and the sounds muted. However the emotions ambushed him when he was at his weakest. All of a sudden he was engulfed in guilt. Pain. Regret. It was all his fault. He had lived in constant fear and when the time came for him to face his fear, he backed down. And she was hurt because of his actions.

Where did it go so wrong?

Brought out of his revere by the flapping of wings, Draco glanced at the window and saw an owl perched on the sill, folding its wings from flight. He stumbled across the room, knocking massive volumes of Magical History onto the floor with an echoing boom. Not letting the scotch go, Draco fiddled with the knot the tied the small scroll to the owl's leg with one hand. It proved to be difficult but the owl was patient and when the scroll was untied, the owl spread its wings, taking off into the sunset horizon.

Somehow, in a dazed and confused manner, Draco had crossed the room and landed aggressively in the cushioned armchair, scotch sloshing out of the crystal glass over his hands. Gulping the remains, he refilled his glass with the bottle from the table. The scroll was in his lap, staring up at him if it was possible. Almost daring Draco to read it, if he had to the guts to do so. With unreasonable nervousness, he ran his hand through his hair and scratched the newly formed stubble across his cheek. He didn't look so much like a Malfoy now.

His hand shook as he unrolled his delivery. His eyes scanned the scribbles. They were familiar but unknown and seemed to have been scrawled in a hurry. Deciphering the handwriting, Draco raised his glass to his mouth. As he came across a name, _her name_, the scotch glass trickled out of his grasp, falling to his lap with a dull thud as the content splashed his shirt, staining the white colour with a brownish hue.

The words burned his eyes as salty, stinging tears swelled up in the corners. He shook his head, trying to remove the words like an Etch-A-Sketch. He closed his eyes tightly. But the words were still printed on the inside of his eyelids, haunting him into action. They flashed in several bright colours in his head like a sign on the Las Vegas Strip. It probably didn't help his cause but he couldn't draw his eyes from the parchment scrap. Even when the tears spilled, his eyes didn't leave the scribbles.

_What did you do to Hermione?_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

She squirmed in her chair, trying to make herself impossibly comfortable. However she was seated on a cold, metal chair so Hermione settled herself in a spot that applied pressure to the least amount of bruises. Awkwardly she kept her eyes on her lap and watched as she manuerved her fingers into different twisting patterns. A sign she was nervous.

Someone stepped closer to Hermione and she glanced to see Harry smiling worriedly like he had done for so many years. He had explained to her that the last moment she remembers were from over a year ago and that at the wedding, her and Ron had broken up because he insisted on getting too intoxicated to control his impulses and ended up hiding away with an old flame, Lavender Brown, until he was discovered in the act, trousers by his ankles by Hermione. Harry also mentioned Draco Malfoy in passing and Hermione's stomach fluttered with internal butterflies. She didn't understand her reaction to the Slytherin and left her more confused and therefore more eager to proceed.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked, crouching to look her in the eyes. His concern radiated from his gaze and Hermione smiled weakly, thankful that he was here, like he always was since she had encountered a troll in her first year at Hogwarts. "You can stop this whenever. The choice is with you." She only nodded and Harry rose to his full height, Hermione's glance following him. "Good luck," he whispered before stepping back behind the line of Oblivators who were about to enter her mind and remove whatever spells had effected her memory.

She nodded to Bernie Bobble, who smiled hopefully and tightened his grip on his wand, before resting her gaze on her twiddling fingers. From the small crowd, Hermione heard whispers of spells, some familiar to her and others were beyond her comprehension. She closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the memories came flooding back.

####

_She sat at the bar of The Hog's Head, nursing a bottle of Butterbeer with a straw. She couldn't help her mind returning to the same haunting images. They pained her physically, made her heart ache with betrayal and longing. How could he do such a thing? And with her of all people. She desperately tried to forget, gulping the remains of her bottle in the hope of forgetting everything. But everytime she blinked, the images flooded behind her lids, like a barrier had broken and everything was rushing towards her. Nothing stopping it. Nothing slowing it. Just a constant onslaught behind closed eyes._

_Pushing the bottle away from her to join the other five empty ones, she sighed heavily and slumped over, her forehead resting on the wooden bar with her elbows propped up and her hands lost in the hair on the back of her head. The initial contact of the bar and her forehead was harsher than expected and she groaned in response as a throbbing pain pulsated by her right temple._

"_Hermione?"_

_Her head snapped up in response to her name. She hoped it was him; so she could forgive him or curse him, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't his voice. As the blood rushed to her head, making her feel dizzy and unstable, the throbbing pain increased and her eyes settled on the least likely of people._

_His hair wasn't scrapped back in its typical strict hairstyle. It was ruffled and untidy, swooping off in all directions. The cold grey eyes she had grown to expect were tainted in kindness, throwing her off-guard. He awkwardly perched on the edge of a bar stool with his hands running over each other rapidly. He was nervous and looked vulnerable and apologetic. Her name was repeated but it wasn't spat out with venom like normal. And it wasn't accompanied by a cruel smirk but a soothing smile._

_And going against their past, disregarding their disputes, Hermione Granger returned a kind but weak smile to Draco Malfoy._

####

"_Draco, why are you so nervous?"_

_The couple were lounging on a blanket in the middle of a busy park, oblivious to their surroundings. Children were running riots, swinging high, sliding energetically, clambering all over the climbing frame. Many families were enjoying picnics around them, warning off bees and beckoning their children to sit down and eat something. Organised chaos surrounded them but they happily ignored it._

_She rolled onto her stomach, propping herself onto her elbows with her head hovering just above his so she could look into his eyes directly. He could lie with his mouth, that's how he had gotten through the majority of his life. Lying he was alright. Lying that it would get better. But his eyes always portrayed his true feelings._

_He looked up at her with an nervous smile. Her face screwed up slightly as she tried to read him and he smiled brighter at her expression. Admittedly she probably looked a little silly. But once the smile faded, he returned to nervous._

"_Whatever it is, we'll get through it together. But I need you to tell me." Normally she wouldn't let her voice sound worried. She was usually strong and encouraging. But she was worried. Especially with the recent going-ons. "Did you get another death threat?" Ever since she'd known the Post-War version of him, he had been receiving threats, Howlers and the like, warning him to end his life or they would, telling him he didn't deserve to live when he worked so closely to Voldemort himself. She had received letters too, almost ordering her to leave him. Apparently, he was unworthy, manipulative, evil and rotten to the core._

_At her words, his eyes widened in alarm. He gathered himself into a sitting position while pulling her into his lap so they were only inches away. His hot sweet breath tickled on her cheeks. She smiled helpfully, looking into his warming grey eyes, pleading him to tell her._

_He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against her. All worries were forgotten. All cares were free. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she was pulled closer to him. Their lips moved with each other, like pieces of a puzzle finally slotting into place. Carelessly they fell from their seated position, she on top of him. A giggle escaped her lips and he smiled, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear._

"_I love you," he whispered._

_And suddenly, Draco Malfoy's nervousness was explained._

####

Hermione opened her eyes with a brand new clarity to her vision. She remembered. Draco came back to her. Their kisses. Their touches. Their days. Their nights. Their times together. Their times apart. All at once, she remembered. The onslaught of information caused her head to ache. But she was too overwhelmed with joy and understanding that she didn't mind.

With a smile towards Harry, who's hunched posture relaxed slightly, she nodded at Bernie who conferred with the other Oblivators. One cast a small spell and red sparks trickled from the tip of their wand. At the sight, Bernie stepped forward. "There are a couple of barriers left but this should be the last time, if there aren't any complications."

Hermione nodded, closed her eyes and listened to the whisper of spells. Soon enough, the barriers broke and she remembered the day before.

####

_It was her idea to walk. He wanted to Apparate directly to the hotel but the night sky was clear, sparkling with a million stars. The air was cool and relaxing. Only a slight breeze ruffled through her hair. After a little kiss and a long stare into his eyes, he decided to walk, taking her hand and leading her down the streets._

_It was late, the streets quiet and empt. Peaceful._

_But for how long?_

_As they rounded the corner, laughing at his jokes about an ancient family relative who apparently fell in love with a troll and disgraced the family name, she sighed deeply, her laughter left ringing through the air, and rested her head on his shoulder. A breeze washed over her and she huddled closer to him. A glass bottle shattered in the shadows between one of the buildings. Probably a cat._

_Emerging from the shadows came cloaked figures. Her eyes darted in a circle around them. Surrounded. His hand clenched hers tighter and he stepped in front of her as the tallest of silloettes loomed closer. His hand crept into his jacket but the figures already exposed their wands, their grips tightening with every step._

_He whispered, "Keep close." His hand retracted from his pocket but the tall, broad shouldered figure shook his head._

"_You are a disgrace," he spat in a booming voice, raising his wand to point directly at the couple. "A traitor to your own people. You don't deserve a wand. You don't deserve to live. You should have died during the war." His words were venom. His harsh tone made her shiver as goosebumps arose on her skin._

_Without warning, a small whimper uttered from her trembling lips. It wasn't loud but in the silence, it rung out like a church bell._

"_And her." The tallest man sighed dramatically. "You have tainted her with your evil. Corrupted one of the most brilliant minds since Albus Dumbledore. Does it satisfy you? Do you take pride in pouring evil down her throat?" She hadn't quite grasped that he was referring to her but once she understood, her body began to shiver beyond the breeze's influence._

_At that point, the heavy shouldered man nodded behind her and stone-hard hands gripped her arms, pinning them to her sides whilst ripping her hand out of his. She let out a shriek. The ground was lost from under her shoes and she was thrown into the arms of another unknown. But that didn't stop his shouting from echoing through the streets._

"_LET HER GO! ANYTHING YOU WANT, YOU CAN HAVE IT! LEAVE HER BE!"_

_She couldn't see him. She couldn't see anything but the black woolen cloak her handler was wearing. When she tried to adjust, get a better view of him, the grip on her tightened painfully. The more she squirmed, the harder his hands would clench, hurting her and making her scream out in pain._

"_GET OFF HER! LEAVE HER ALONE! "PLEA-!" His voice was cut off by a groan. Hushed words echoed through the couldn't make them out however she didn't have the time to._

_Without warning, her body was dropped from the grip of her handler. She landed hard on the cold stone floor, pain shooting up her back. Before she could cry out, try to move or even gather her thoughts, feet were kicking her in all directions, beating up until she bled and beyond. Her ribs were under constant assault, making her breaths small and tight. The collar of her coat collected in a man's hand, the stench of Firewhiskey overwhelming her, and suddenly her face was brutally attacked by the man's fist. But that didn't stop the others from turning her entire body to pulp._

_She wondered where he was. She couldn't understand why he wasn't helping her. His shouting had been replaced by nothing but the grunts of her attackers. Where was he? Was he taking pleasure out of watching her bleed and bruise and possibly break? No, she tried to tell herself. He had changed. But there was an itchy thought at the back of her head, worming its way to the front. Had he changed?_

_At first, she ached all over. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, throbbing constantly with every kick and punch. But as the beating wore on from seconds to minutes, she began to feel numb with pain. Like she knew of nothing else and had accepted that this was how she was supposed to feel. She could feel herself losing conscious. Her eyelids felt heavy and darkness felt peaceful in contrast to the numbing pain. The logical part of her pain was telling her to stay awake, to keep her eyes open no matter how hurt she was. But the selfish section wanted to rest and soon her eyes were closed and she was at peace._

####

Now that her memories were back, she could remember the way home. After thanking Harry and Ginny, who had arrived with James, Teddy and her suitcase, a Ministry car arrived to take her home. She was sure Draco was there. Hiding. Drinking himself silly. It was his typical behaviour if something traumatic had happened. Although she had only seen this behaviour once – when his father was murdered in the early stages of their relationship – his mother assured her it was his usual response. And the only help was her.

Using the key buried at the bottom of her bag, she let herself into the Manor, leaving her bag and suitcase in the entrance hall. The house was cold and grey. Usually the fires were lit so the house wasn't at a low temperature, sending the rooms in a red glow.

The small heel on her brogues echoed through the hollowed halls as she searched from him. Every door she passed was empty. She checked their bedroom, the kitchen, the main living room, the study, the library. But each room was cold and vacant so she set the fireplace alight and moved on to the next destination. She had nearly given up when she decided to check the quarters for the house elves. Once the quarters would have housed many slaves but now it was where two free elves stayed. Rosie and Jumbo.

It was Rosie who greeted her upon entrance. Her big, round, brown eyes looked close to tears and her bony fingers played with the hem of her crimson velvet dress. When she spoke her voice cracked and hiccuped slightly. "Mistress Granger." She sounded relieved and Hermione knew that he was here. "It's Master Malfoy. He was crying and Rosie asked why. He threw a glass at Rosie's head." Her speech was interrupted with sobs and at the end, she wailed and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, pulling an old rag from a pocket and blowing her nose.

"Rosie?" Hermione made sure to use a calm and soothing tone. But she was worried. More than worried. She was scared. "Can you take me to Draco?" With a loud sniffle, Rosie rose to her feet and took Hermione's outstretched hand, tugging her down the winding stairs to a larger kitchen than upstairs where the house elves would have cooked if the Malfoys had important guests, hiding them from sight.

In the corner, surrounded by all manners of intoxicants, his white-blond hair dirty and messy, a shadow forming around his jaw, with dark circles clouding his eyes, was Draco. He was still wearing the clothes her had worn when they went out for dinner. A sob broke from Rosie's chest and his eyes snapped up, first filled with rage. But when he saw Hermione, his gaze softened to happiness before it rippled into despair.

Hermione dropped Rosie's hand and hurried over to Draco's side, kicking empty bottles of Firewhiskey and Vodka across the stone floors. She fell to the floor, cupping his head in her hands and lifting up to look at her directly. "What have you done to yourself?" She could barely manage a whisper.

His hands moved to cover hers. He closed his eyes and Hermione thought for a moment as the seconds wore on that he had passed out. But the mysterious grey eyes opened, burning into her gaze. "I don't deserve you. I never did. It's all my fault. I-." Lips pressed against his mouth, stopping whatever was coming next.

In an attempt to tell him everything, Hermione squeezed her eyes tight shut, kissing him fereciously and passionately, trying to pour every thought, every promise, every love into his mind. All through a kiss.

When she pulled away, her eyes flashed open, waiting for a reaction. He sighed deeply and opened his eyes with a smile. "What a wonderful dream this turned out to be!" He glanced around and found a half full bottle of something with a terrible stench that burned Hermione's nose. The contents swirled in his grip before he brought the bottle to his snatched the bottle off him, passing it on. Rosie took the bottle away, busying herself with making tea under Hermione's instructions.

"This isn't a dream!" she insisted, her thumb caressing his cheek with warmth. "I swear to you. I love you. I need you Draco. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to you!" Her eyes filled with tears and a few probably spilled. But she was too distracted with watching his eyes. "Please believe me." Her voice was breaking up, sobs making it hard for her to make her words comprehensible.

Realisation painted itself on Draco's face and he sat up abruptly, pulling Hermione closer to his side. "Hermione?" His voice wasn't more than a breath. "Why are you here? Aren't you angry? Ashamed?" Fingers pushed strands of hair from her face and now she could feel the hot tears streak her face. "It's all my fault."

"Don't you think I knew when we first kissed that it would be hard? I never forgot. And yet I still fell in love with you, knowing the possible consequences. And I don't love you any less."

She lowered her head, moving one hand to lift his chin up. This time when their lips met, sparks flew and he was responsive to the electricity. His lips pushed against hers with a longing that had been suppressed by intoxicants. Hands knotted themselves in her hair and Hermione hugged him closer, pressing her body closer to his until not even air could be between them.

With her nose wrinkled, Hermione pulled away, leaving Draco's lips still puckered. "No offense darling, but you smell like The Leaky Cauldron after New Years." A chuckle played on his mouth and Hermione couldn't resist, despite the scent, to return her lips to his.

* * *

><p><em>This is it! The final chapter. I hope you all didn't really think Draco hurt Hermione! The response to this story has been amazing so I thank all who alerted and reviewed and favourited!<em> **It means the world to me! **_I'm closing my period of writing Draco and Hermione, moving onto a new pairing from the Next Generation. Check my page soon for more!_

**Please don't be afraid to give me some criticism. Tell me what you liked, loved or even hated. REVIEW!**

****Thankyou!


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